


Protect and Serve

by kayura_sanada



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin Does Dumb Stuff For Arthur, Protective!Arthur, Slight Cape Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: Merlin would love to be Arthur’s servant, 'til the day he died.





	

“Merlin!”

Arthur ran up to him, his hands already working at the clasp of his cape. Merlin shivered, still wet from the noble children’s ‘play.’ He rubbed his bare arms. Arthur stood directly in front of him, hiding the worst of his state of dishabille. His bare chest, for instance, which, in the freezing cold of the sunless winter day, had left his hardened nipples to poke straight up. Arthur’s cape was cold from the air as the prince wrapped the cloth around him, but it felt like a wool blanket to Merlin’s shivering frame, and it shielded him from the worst of the wind.

Arthur pushed back the wet clumps of hair from Merlin’s eyes. “Get inside,” the prince ordered, pointing toward the front of the castle. Merlin didn’t have to be told twice; he made his escape, watching from the corner of his eye as Arthur turned toward the castle square and its fountain – and where the two brats stood laughing still.

Merlin hurried around and up the steps, his bare feet padding wetly against the stone.

Arthur’s voice radiated out, the authority even clearer, somehow, than his fury.

Merlin moved as quickly as he could from the entrance, though not before two servants and a knight could see. He wrapped Arthur’s cape further around himself, though its existence likely drew even more stares than just running in his underdrawers. Every time he ran past the castle’s arrowslits, Arthur’s voice filtered through. He hurried up the servant’s stairs, only to stop when he heard Arthur say his name. He didn’t know why; of course Arthur would be talking about him. But somehow he’d expected Arthur to speak in abstracts, to talk about _servants_ , not _Merlin_. Yet Arthur very distinctly said, “Merlin is not a toy for your amusement. Nor is any servant, farmer, worker. Each depends on your magnanimity to protect them. For Merlin, who is under _my_ protection, to be hurt, is an attack against me.”

“He didn’t mind,” one of the little bullies said – Hallibur, the younger of Duke Greer’s kids. “He said it was his duty.”

Merlin couldn’t see Arthur from where he stood; the view had never been for looking down so steeply, or even for the best view all around; the windows existed for sieges. Even if they hadn’t been, Arthur stood nearly directly beneath him; he would have needed to crane his neck, even if the windows were as those in Arthur’s rooms. Even still, he found no need to see Arthur to know that pregnant pause of his meant Merlin was going to be yelled at next. When Arthur finally spoke, Merlin could hear the clenched teeth. “It is his duty to say so. His actions reflect on me, nearly as much as my own. But not nearly as much, at the moment, as your actions reflect upon yourselves. You both expressed interest in the knighthood, did you not?”

Silence. The foreboding inherent in the change of topic had not escaped the brats. Merlin imagined them both nodding solemnly, or perhaps just standing straight-backed with their jaws out. The latter seemed more likely. Most probably, neither had ever been punished before in their lives. Then again, they were nobility. They could act with the rest of them. They had the night before, at the evening meal.

“Then you’re now working at quite the disadvantage,” Arthur said, and Merlin could only guess from the statement that the kids had given him an answer of some sort. “More than skill comes honor. You took my servant, whom I lent to you in trust, and treated him worse than the dog you claim you wished him to act as. No one would have their dog freeze itself, not even to have them cleaned,” Arthur said, snapping over the older child’s – Luddon’s – protests. Merlin flushed in shame at the reminder of what he’d done, yet, once again, the only sound in Arthur’s carefully enunciated tone was controlled rage. “Such men will never be allowed the duty of protecting the weak. They are not even fit to hold a sword.”

Neither boy spoke. Merlin’s mouth flapped open. Was this truly the same man who had bullied and tormented Merlin himself when they’d first met? Still, his heart warmed. Arthur couldn’t do much; these children weren’t his, they were too young for any serious punishments, and, as children to Duke Greer, of all people, there was the problem of angering his father’s council. Not to mention the fact that there was little chance anything done to them here would ensure the brats didn’t just continue their habits when they returned home.

But here, instead of abusing his authority as prince, Arthur hit them where it hurt – their pride. Their ambitions. And no doubt, Arthur, from there, would be able to give the kids a punishment like cleaning a few rooms or scrubbing the fountain or something. If Arthur had been more forgiving at the moment, Merlin might have feared the prince giving _him_ the kids as his personal servants for the day. But Arthur was far too furious; he wouldn’t want them anywhere near Merlin for the duration of their stay. He would bet his measly salary on it.

With that, he hurried up the stairs and into Gaius’ chambers. The old physician looked up at the sound of the door opening, his hand still stirring a small pot of herbs. His eyes popped wide at Merlin’s state. “Merlin!” He dropped the ladle and hurried past the table to Merlin’s side. With the fire going, it was nice and cozy in the room; the heat made Merlin shiver horribly. “What happened?” Gaius asked, and then, before Merlin could even open his chattering teeth, “here, come sit by the fire.” And with one hand on his back, Gaius led him over to the bench. “What happened?” he asked again. “And why are you dressed in Arthur’s cape?” Gaius made straight for his medicine cabinet, pulling out two bottles and closing it again. He grabbed a cup and placed it in front of Merlin in preparation for the tincture he would force Merlin to pour down his throat.

“Those Greer brats wanted someone to 'play pretend with,'” Merlin said, huddling into the cape, shivering worse by the moment the warmer he got. He looked down at himself. His extremities were no longer blue, though he was still incredibly pale. It would be best if he got changed, wouldn’t it? And Arthur would expect it of him by the time the man inevitably came to check on him. “I had to strip naked and get in the fountain. For a 'bath.'”

He wondered what had happened to his clothes. With his luck, the brats’ punishment would include picking them up and cleaning them. He wondered if he should just give the garments up for lost. He didn’t really make the money for such waste, though.

Gaius made an unhappy noise. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the sort to comply, Merlin.”

He almost hadn’t. He wouldn’t have, if not for Arthur’s precarious position. He’d only just taken over the kingdom for his father, the man almost catatonic after the disaster with Morgana. Arthur’s position was supposed to be certain, and yes, no one could take his title from him. But they sure could limit it. This duke had made an appearance shortly after rumors of Arthur’s unfitness for his new responsibilities had swept the city of Camelot, threatening the nation’s prince being demoted to a puppet of his own council. Merlin would be willing to bet his book of magic that the duke had something to do with said rumors, if he hadn’t started them himself. It meant that, if Merlin acted out against the man’s wayward children, his actions could be used against Arthur. Evidence that Arthur couldn’t even control his own servant, let alone a nation.

Which, Merlin was cynical enough to think, could very well have been the point of having Arthur hand him off to them. Either that, or those kids were arguably worse than even Arthur when they’d first met.

“Merlin, go change, and I’ll fix up something warm.” Gaius pulled the mixture off the pit before Merlin could demure, and he was left with nothing but to do as told. Even though he found himself sniffing the cape a little, despite himself, soaking in the faint scent of Arthur’s soap still on the man’s skin and hair from the warm bath that morning. The fine, heavy fabric of the cloak against his still-chilled skin didn’t hurt, either. He sighed and stood up.

Footsteps pounded outside the door. As one, he and Gaius turned to the sound. At first, Merlin had thought it might be Gwaine or Lancelot; the footprints were too heavy for Gwen. But they sounded too loud, too crisp, and unsurprisingly, when the door slammed open,  it revealed Arthur. The man’s narrowed gaze swept the room, quickly latching onto Merlin and locking. “Merlin!”

Gaius surreptitiously moved closer to the fire, making way before Arthur did more than twitch. And then Arthur strode forward and grabbed Merlin’s arms. “Merlin!” the prince said again. And nothing else. Even as the warmth of Arthur’s hands seeped into his skin, the silence went unbroken between them. Gaius placed a new pot on the stove, the metal clanging throughout the room.

Gooseflesh rose on Merlin’s arms as Arthur looked him over, his gaze taking in Merlin’s white-knuckled grip on his cape, his shaking knees, his bare feet, then back up to his face. “You idiot!” he said, seemingly reassured that no permanent harm had been done. “Of all times to become obedient!”

Merlin just smiled. “Always best to keep you on your toes, sire.”

Arthur sighed loudly. His fingers, however, flexed on Merlin’s shoulders. As if he was afraid of letting go. “You are not to wait on them anymore. I need you with me during the next few meetings, anyway.”

Merlin wouldn’t have lost a single page.

“As you wish, sire.” He grinned. “Perhaps I could have the night off, then?”

Arthur made a disbelieving sound. “Don’t press your luck. We both know very well my boots need polishing after tromping through that wet grass to get to you. Since it’s your fault they’re scuffed, it’s only fair you be the one to clean them.”

They both knew very well Arthur’s boots would not be getting cleaned that night. They would be too busy doing other things – like making a mess of Arthur’s bed. Merlin grinned wider. They both also knew – though Arthur would sooner die than admit it – that the night’s activities would be fast, rough, evidence once more of their health. And then slow, caressing. Affirming. They knew enough of each other to know even how their nights would pass.

Merlin couldn’t wait.

Arthur flushed, his thoughts clearly running the same course as Merlin’s. He tugged roughly on his cape, nearly yanking Merlin into him. His flush deepened. “Get dressed, Merlin,” he said, his voice lower than usual. His eyes were dilated. He cleared his throat. “Before I take my cape back and have you strutting naked through my halls, after all.”

“Perhaps I’ll do so, anyway,” Merlin said, though he carefully backed up toward his room, just in case. The ends of the cape swished around his ankles. “I might woo some wayward lord.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “With that skinny body of yours? I think not.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, nearly tripping his way backward up the stairs. “I think I have a good chance. Who knows who my 'skinny body’ might entice?”

Gaius just added something to the new pot and shook his head.

“ _Merlin!”_ Arthur shouted, his face nearly purpling. He grabbed the first thing his hand could reach – the poor, innocent cup Gaius had prepared for Merlin earlier – and threw it. Merlin ran off, cape flaring out behind him, a curtain of red, his laugh bubbling up as he made a break for his room. He shoved the door closed behind him, his body hot as he panted against the wood, his heart thundering in his chest. Suddenly the cape was a bit too hot.


End file.
